Hear Me Now
by mamorel
Summary: Wilson attempts suicide, and everyone tries to deal, especially house. Warnings for implied slash in later chapters. I do not own House, M.D., or any of the characters.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own the characters I just like to see them in my world.

"I swear, House. I don't even know why I try talking to you. Just forget that I said anything." Wilson stormed out of House's apartment. He was more hurt than angry, but he didn't want House to know that. House could never give on anything. Why had he expected this to be any different?

House watched Wilson storm out of the kitchen and a few moments later heard his door slam. He set his beer back down in the fridge. He hadn't meant to say it. It had just kind of come out. He knew that he should have apologized before Wilson had a chance to leave, but he didn't. He kept telling himself that Wilson was just being a girl, but he knew that it had hurt Wilson. He heated the leftovers he had pulled out of the freezer and sat down to watch his show. The plot line was interesting enough, but House couldn't seem to concentrate on it. One new episode and two reruns later House had yet to touch his food. He tossed the whole plate, food and all in the sink and pulled on his jacket. He hadn't known what to expect when he went to Wilson's apartment, but he hadn't expected to find him only semiconscious on the floor of the bathroom, next to an empty bottle of pills.

House's instincts set in and he called 9-1-1. He explained the situation to the operator and had given Wilson's address to her when Wilson had started to shake.

"Wilson, stay with me." House had set the phone down next to him, still technically on the line with the 9-1-1 operator. Wilson's brown hair was matted to his forehead, his brown eyes glazed over and unable to focus. House smoothed his hair back away from his face. "Wilson, look at me. Focus." House watched Wilson slowly drag his eyes up to meet his own. House feared that it would be the last time those chocolate colored eyes would look up at him. "You can't die on me, Wilson."

"You....need....me..." Wilson's eyes shut. His body was exhausted from the tremendous amount of focus he had exerted.

"I need you, Wilson." House hugged him closer to his body. "I do need you."


	2. Chapter 2

Cameron wasn't sure when the realization had dawned on her, but as she watched House talk to an unconscious Wilson she knew exactly why House had never been interested in her. She didn't notice that Chase and Foreman had come to stand along side her.

"House in scrubs. Now that is a sight I thought I'd never see." Foreman couldn't believe how human House was acting. He hadn't been able to spout off one sarcastic remark since Wilson had been rushed to the ER last night; and House hadn't left Wilson's side since they'd arrived.

"He still hasn't gone home at all. Cuddy's been bringing him food just so she can make sure he's eating anything at all." Chase put a hand on Cameron's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting it drop back to his side. He wanted to comfort her, but didn't know what she needed to hear. It had grown extremely apparent that House and Wilson were more than just friends, and Cameron could be a tad self centered when it came to her love life.

"Has he spoken to anyone? Other than Wilson, I mean?" What Cameron had really wanted to ask was if anyone else knew about House and Wilson, but she didn't want to seem cold hearted. She watched both Foreman and Chase shake their heads.

"I don't think I'd know what to say to him. I mean, it's House." Chase ran a hand through his blond hair and continued to worry. House had been there for him and he wanted to be there for House, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Most people wanted to be comforted, but this was House, and House usually wanted to be left alone.

"I still can't believe he tried to commit suicide." Foreman turned away from an obviously broken House. "I mean, it's Wilson."

"Don't you three have a patient that you should be working on?" Cuddy was getting tired of breaking up the onlookers. She still hadn't figured out who people came to spy on more, House or Wilson.

"The patient was released an hour ago." Cameron could see the worry lines around Cuddy's eyes. She wasn't running on much sleep. The ER had probably called her when Wilson was admitted. It wasn't very often that they admitted one of their own, especially under the circumstances of Wilson's stay.

"Then you three can split up Wilson's appointments and fill in your time with clinic duty. I'm sure if it was any of you three in there you'd want some privacy." She stood for a moment, and when no one had moved she added, "Now go." Reluctantly, but without another word the trio walked away. Cuddy watched them turn the corner down the hall and then steeled herself to go in and talk with House. She knocked on the door frame, but House didn't look up. She took a chair next to him. "House, you need to go home and get some rest."

"I'm fine." He stared at Wilson's face. He looked like he was asleep, but House knew it for what it was; a coma he might never wake up from. "I want to be here when he wakes up."

"You need a good night's sleep in your own bed." It was not lost on Cuddy that House had said "when" and not "if."

"Stop coddling me. I know what I need. I need to be here for Wilson." _Because I wasn't there for him when he needed me._ He looked from Wilson to Cuddy. He wanted to make his point clear. "I have to be here, Cuddy."

Cuddy nodded her consent to defeat. She wasn't sure why this meant so much to House, but he truly cared for Wilson, and she wouldn't have sent a loved one of any other patient away. "I'll make sure the nurses bring you something to eat." She walked to the door, but stopped before leaving. When she looked back, House's hands were no longer in his lap, but clasped gently around one of Wilson's hands.

House sighed when Cuddy finally left. Truth was, that he was so tired he no longer felt it. He just knew he had to be here when Wilson woke up.....If. If Wilson woke up. House knew the odds were against him. But Wilson had to wake up. He needed Wilson. House leaned in close to Wilson's ear to whisper to him. "Please wake up, Wilson. You can't die on me like this. There's something I have to tell you." Wilson wasn't supposed to die before him. House was supposed to be the one hell bent on destroying his life. House rubbed his thumb idly over Wilson's pale hand as he prayed for Wilson to wake up.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a little after eight when Cameron decided to leave for the night. She had intended to walk straight out to her car, but instead found herself at Wilson's room. House was curled up on a chair that he had pulled up next to Wilson's bed. His feet were propped up near Wilson's and his stubble was starting to look more like a beard.

"Are you just going to stand in the doorway all night?" House spoke without looking up.

House's voice caused Cameron to jump. "I thought you were sleeping." She set her bag down by the door and pulled a chair up to sit by House. "Have you been home at all since he was admitted?"

"He doesn't like to be alone." Resigning himself to another sleepless night, he set his feet back on the floor and stretched his stiff legs. He had felt guilty every time he had wanted to pop a vicodin to dull the pain, but he could no longer resist the burning pain in his right leg. He pulled out the bottle and popped two pills into his mouth.

"You could have just told me why you weren't interested in me. I would have understood." Cameron was pleased with the little smirk her comment pulled out of House.

"Now where's the fun in that?" His retort sounded lame even to himself, but he didn't have the energy to expend on thinking up witty comebacks. House sighed. "I never told Him. Why would I have told you?" He could feel her eyes trying to bore a hole into him. He knew what assumptions she was making before she said them and he hated to admit that she was right.

"Is that why you haven't left his side in almost three days?" She was tempted to hug him and tell him that it would be alright, but she would swear that she heard House growl at her.

"I told you, he doesn't like to be alone." He knew Cameron wouldn't leave until she was satisfied, but he wasn't ready to admit to her that he was scared of losing Wilson. "I don't want him to wake up alone."

Cameron didn't say anything about Wilson's odds of waking up. House was acting human. House was caring about something other than himself for once and she wouldn't have been surprised to see frogs falling from the sky outside. "I'll stay with him You go home and get some rest. I can spend the night here with him. I'll call you if he wakes up."

House thought of a million different arguments, but instead of voicing them he just nodded his head. He stood, leaning heavily on his cane and limped to the doorway, but stopped to look back at Cameron before he left. "You won't leave him?"

"I promise." She smiled as House turned and left. She could see how badly his leg was hurting him. Somehow, House actually caring didn't seem to be the victory she had always hoped it would be.

Cameron hadn't been watching over Wilson for more than ten minutes when Foreman knocked on the door frame. "House finally go home?" He could see that she had been crying.

"Just for the night. I told him I'd sit with Wilson in case he woke up." She watched Foreman cross the dark room and take the seat House had recently vacated. "He's always been so strong before. I don't know what happened."

Foreman nodded briefly. "House or Wilson?"

"Both."


	4. Chapter 4

House's apartment felt more lonely than usual. He had been too afraid that Wilson would wake up to fall asleep for more than a few minutes at a time at the hospital. He hung his cane on the molding above the door and proceeded to his bedroom. He popped another vicodin into his mouth and flopped down, fully dressed, onto his bed. He was exhausted but sleep wouldn't come. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Wilson. Sometimes he was smiling, sometimes nagging him, but mostly House saw Wilson as he had found him that night; his eyes glazed over and looking up at him. It hit House that Wilson had meant to kill himself. This hadn't been a cry for help. Had he been that self absorbed that he hadn't seen Wilson's pain? He had prided himself on seeing the lies that everyone hid below the surface, but he hadn't seen Wilson's. How long had Wilson been silently screaming at House for help? House finally fell asleep praying to a God he didn't believe in. It was out of the hospital's hands. Wilson would live or die and they couldn't do anything to sway favor their way.

House's sleep was troubled and fleeting. He tossed and turned all night until a knock roused him. _Why is Wilson knocking?_ It was only when House opened his eyes that he realized it wasn't Wilson knocking at his door. Wilson was still in a coma at PPTH. House scrambled to get out of bed hoping that it was Cameron coming to tell him that Wilson had woken up. His leg cried out in protest, but he ignored it. Vicodin could wait. When he threw open the door Chase was standing there with a a box of donuts and a cup of coffee. House felt his heart sink. "What do you want?"

"It's almost noon. Cuddy wanted me to make sure that you were okay." Chase stepped into House's apartment as House retreated to the kitchen.

"Cuddy didn't send you out of the kindness of her heart. Why are you here?" House pulled a carton of milk out of the fridge and set it on the counter.

"She was worried about you." Chase tried to deflect, but he could tell that House could see right through him.

"Cuddy didn't send you." House pulled a mug out of the cabinet and poured himself a glass of milk, not exactly his perfect choice for a morning beverage, but Chase had only brought one coffee.

Chase set the box of donuts down next to the carton of milk and took a sip of his coffee. "No, she didn't send me. I came because I was worried about you." He steeled himself for House's sneer, but it never came.

"I don't need your comfort. I'm taking a shower." House left Chase standing alone in the kitchen. The hot water felt good oh his sore muscles. He had assumed that Chase would catch on and leave, but when House had dried off and dressed Chase was still standing in the kitchen drinking his coffee. "Didn't get the hint?" House sat down at the table and popped two vicodin.

"I'm not good with subtleties." Chase watched House as he rifled through the box on the counter before pulling out a chocolate glazed donut. "So..."

House waved a hand to silence Chase. "I don't want to talk about my feelings." As if to emphasize his point he bit off almost half of the donut he was holding.

Chase ran a hand through his hair and set his coffee down. "I didn't think you would. I was going to ask if you were going back to the hospital and if you wanted a ride."

House polished off the rest of his donut before throwing on his jacket. Chase followed him to the door without a word. House didn't know what he wanted to say and even if he did, what good would it do?

The ride from his apartment to PPTH was every bit as silent as Chase had thought it would be. He could almost feel the tension as he parked the car. He could see hesitancy in House. "I just want you to know that if you do want to talk. I'll listen." House nodded once and Chase took his cue to head inside.

House followed Chase into the building and they went their separate ways. Cameron was sitting on the chair next to Wilson like she had last night. "Thank you." He didn't look at her when he said it.

Cameron smiled. She hadn't expected House to thank her. "You're welcome." She stood up and let House take the seat next to Wilson. "I'm going to go home and change and put in some clinic hours. If you want me to stay with him again, just page me." She watched House nod before leaving.

For once House was glad that he didn't have a patient; no puzzle to focus on to distract him. He replayed the night over and over in his head. Had Wilson hinted at it? There should have been signs. How could everyone who knew Wilson not see some sort of cry for help? House could feel his chest tighten.

"There were no signs, House." Cuddy was surprised that for once she had easily read House. "One of us would have seen them if there were." She walked over to House and put a hand on his shoulder. He tensed up, but didn't shy away from her.

"I pushed him Cuddy. I finally pushed him too far." He squeezed Wilson's hand. _I won't do it again if you just wake up._

"You didn't do this, House. The doctor in you knows that." She let go of House's shoulder and sat down next to him.

"Why are you here?" He looked at her eyes, just as blood-shot as his own. He couldn't help but wonder if she didn't blame herself too.

"Wilson named you his power of attorney." She hated having to do this, but if Wilson didn't wake up soon someone would have to start taking care of his affairs.

"Doesn't he have family or something for that?" House had never felt such a weight on his chest before.

"He chose you. That means he trusts you." Cuddy wanted to comfort House. She knew how hard it was or someone to have to make those kinds of decisions for someone they cared about. It was hard enough to make them as a doctor, let alone a friend.

House sighed and nodded his head.


	5. Chapter 5

disclaimer: i do not own house m.d. or any of the characters

"Why are we doing this again?" Foreman asked as he slipped through the door Cameron had just jimmied open. Wilson's place was immaculate. Foreman closed the door behind him and turned to face Cameron.

"Well, he needs his fridge cleaned out and we should make sure it's clean. I mean what if he has a pet?" Cameron was as awestruck as Foreman at the cleanliness of Wilson's apartment. Even as she spoke she knew he didn't have any pets. She had to admit that this puzzle was getting to her. How could they all have missed the signs?

"If that's the case, why don't we just ask House for the keys? It would have been easier. Not as much fun as breaking and entering, but easier." Foreman closed the blinds so no one could see them as they canvased Wilson's apartment.

"You don't just jump to suicide. There has to be something we missed." Cameron walked a little farther into Wilson's apartment and started looking through his cabinets. They were as organized as the rest of his house. His spices were alphabetized, all the canned goods lined up, and the boxed foods lined up by size.

"You're sounding more and more like House every minute. I hope you know that." Foreman watched Cameron turn around and glare at him. He shrugged his shoulders at her glare. They were here and they might as well do something.

"So don't help." Cameron made her way to the bedroom and started pulling open drawers. All his clothes were pressed and stacked neatly. "I wish my place could be this organized. Maybe I'd actually be able to find something once in awhile."

"So what exactly are we looking for?" Foreman had gathered Wilson's mail and was flipping through it. He set it on the nightstand next to the bed and watched Cameron.

"Something that indicates that he was depressed. A journal, overdue notices on bills, anything." Cameron continued her search as Foreman walked out. It was almost seven when they had finished checking everything. She walked out into the kitchen and waited for Foreman to finish checking the bathroom.

"Did you find anything?" Foreman walked out of the bathroom empty handed. He watched Cameron shake her head. "Maybe there wasn't anything to find. Maybe he got rid of it, or maybe the police confiscated it. You don't think House would have hidden it do you?"

"No. House blames himself. If he knew why Wilson was depressed he wouldn't be kicking himself so badly." She was, in a way kind of relieved that whatever had been bothering Wilson wasn't staring them right in the face.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own House, M.D. or any of the other characters

Author's Note: I don't really like how this flowed, it was originally supposed to be two shorter chapters but for length's sake I put them together where you find he page break.

House had once again tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep. He sat in the same spot he'd sat in for the last several days just holding Wilson's hand. He had been staring at Wilson for what seemed like ages when Wilson opened his eyes. House's heart seemed to leap into his throat and for one moment in his life, he was truly speechless.

Wilson's eyes stared up at the ceiling for a long time before finally scanning the room around him. House could tell that Wilson knew where he was. Wilson's eyes rested on House. Finally finding his voice to say what he needed to, House opened his mouth.

"Get out, House." Wilson watched House stare at him for a brief moment before turning away to stare at the opposite wall.

House was stunned. His mouth hung agape at Wilson's emotionless words. When it was apparent that Wilson wasn't going to turn back around House let go of Wilson's hand and left. He didn't hear the nurses greet him as he walked down the hall, and he didn't remember the cab ride to his apartment. But here he stood, in the living room he and Wilson had shared countless beers in. The room spun around him and he felt like he couldn't breathe. He sat down as his chest clenched, pushing the air from his lungs. He could feel his chest heaving and something wet on his hands. When he touched his face he realized that he was crying.

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A knock drew Cuddy's attention from her paper work. She watched Cameron and Foreman step into her office. She closed the file folder on her desk and sat back in her chair. "So, what did you find?"

Cameron stared dumbfounded at her boss for a moment. "How did you..." She was stunned that Cuddy had known what they were up to. They had been so careful.

"Please. Give me some credit. House always has you ransack your patient's houses. Why wouldn't you be itching to know what it is we all missed. So, what did you find." She took a sense of pride in still being able to put them in their place.

"Nothing. Everything was normal. No note, no journals, no nothing. His place was spotless." Cameron sat down in one of the chairs opposite Cuddy.

"His place can't even be considered lived in. It's almost obsessive how clean everything was. Spices and canned goods alphabetized; it was just weird." Foreman took the seat next to Cameron. "I can't think of one thing he's done to ever make me worried about him. Maybe there was just nothing for us to miss."

Cuddy sighed and rubbed her temples. "The nurses informed me a few minutes ago that Wilson woke up. He's not very receptive to visitors right now, but if you want to try talking to him be my guest."

"How's House doing?" Cameron could imagine House being elated, maybe even smiling at the sight of Wilson's eyes.

"I don't know. House left right after Wilson woke up. He didn't talk to the nurses, and still hasn't returned my calls. Wilson won't talk about House either." She couldn't bring herself to tell them about what House had said. To tell them how he blamed himself, and that Wilson, in a way, probably did too.


	7. Chapter 7

House sat alone in his apartment with the small shoe box in front of him. He had all but forgotten it as it lay under the coffee table. Before he had been too distracted to even remember it, yet alone open it; but now it felt almost like a betrayal. It felt like he had no right to look at the contents. His hands shook as he took off the lid. The last conversation with Wilson flooded his thoughts.

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Wilson seemed nervous as he stepped into House's apartment that night. He had carried a small shoe box under his arm. He sat on the couch and rested the box on his lap. He had so much on his mind.

"Unless its a stash of pornos and beer, I don't want it." House had barely greeted Wilson. His show was on and greetings could wait until the commercial break. He took a swig of his beer and offered it to Wilson.

Wilson shook his head and watched House drain the contents of the bottle. "I lost a patient today; a little girl. I misdiagnosed her." He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and he didn't want to cry in front of House.

"It happens. Get over it." House had lost a patient today as well and wasn't being particularly patient with his friend today. He knew Wilson was looking for comfort, but House was being selfish. He knew it, and for some reason he couldn't bring himself to care. He hadn't taken his eyes off the TV and didn't need to to know that Wilson was upset.

"How do you just get over it? I cost a young girl her life." Wilson had never wanted a career where he had to make on-your-feet decisions. He liked the stability of oncology. Once you had a diagnosis you could think about the right treatment options. But she hadn't had cancer. If he had known that, she would have survived. He sat facing House's profile, wanting to look in Houses' eyes, but not daring to ask him to turn around.

"If you hadn't done it, someone else would have. Doctors like us are a dime a dozen. No one needs us." House could feel his anger rising up. He knew he should calm down and not take it out on Wilson, but there was no one else around and everyone knew that self control was not one of House's strong suits.

Wilson was only looking for comfort. He had no one else to go to but House. "You..."

House didn't need to hear it to know what Wilson was going to say. Normally it was endearing but tonight House just lost it. He didn't need to hear about his weaknesses. To be reminded of his own failures. He didn't want to offer comfort in any form. "I don't need you, Wilson. I don't need anyone." It was a lie. House hadn't meant it, but his stubborn pride refused to let him retract the statement and apologize. Instead of facing Wilson, House got up and went to the kitchen to get another beer.

Wilson stood up, knocking the box onto the floor under the coffee table and followed House into the kitchen. "You don't need me?"

Here was his chance to take it back; to say he was sorry. "No. I don't need you Wilson." He kept his eyes on the counter, not daring to look at the tears that he knew were welling in Wilson's eyes.

"Fine. I swear, House, I don't even know why I try talking to you. Just forget that I said anything."

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Wilson had stormed out, tears still unshed as he slammed the door. He had forgotten the box and there it had sat while Wilson lay unconscious at PPTH

House opened the box and pulled out random bits of paper. He hadn't known that Wilson could draw. He'd never even doodled at the office, but these were good. He recognized former patients of Wilson that had passed on. Wilson had drawn a portrait of his last wife. House had disliked her immensely. To be entirely honest, he had never liked any of Wilson's wives. He set the drawings down on the couch next to him as he waded through them. They were all dark, a reminder of how he had failed in the past. House knew how much it hurt Wilson when he lost one of his cancer kids. He should have been nicer. House took time to look at each and every drawing as he neared the bottom there were some happier drawing. He had one of House and his team at the office. Tucked at the very bottom of the box was a picture of House sitting at a bar. He knew instantly which bar he was in. He, himself had tucked away a piece of the broken mirror from that fateful night. There were no other mementos of their friendship, and no drawings of Wilson's other friends. Had Wilson been as lonely as he was?

House set the papers back in the box and rested his head in his hands. Wilson had tried to show him. He had asked House for help in the only way he could. For once Wilson had needed him and House had failed him. Ever the same selfish bastard he always had been, he now had to figure out how to fix this.


	8. Chapter 8

Wilson had refused all visitors since he had woken up. He had even sent Cuddy away empty-handed. The therapist he was required to see had talked to him for a while, but he had stayed silent. He had thought at first that he was glad he hadn't died, because he could remember the panic he had felt as his body reacted to the drugs he had taken. But now, he didn't feel anything. It had happened without his knowledge; and now their was nothingness all around him. A knock at the door brought Wilson out of his thoughts. He was not surprised to see House standing in the doorway. "What do you want, House?" When House stepped further into the room, Wilson's eyes spotted the all too familiar box in his hands. House probably still hadn't opened it.

"I just wanted to bring you something." He set the box on the table next to Wilson. He hoped Wilson would want him to stay, but he knew that if their positions were reversed, he'd want Wilson to leave. Would probably send him packing with a swift kick in his ass.

"I want you to leave, House." Wilson couldn't bring himself to look at House any more. House was afraid he'd start to cry. Wilson's reactions were breaking his heart. Wilson watched House turn and leave before turning his attention to the box on the table. He didn't feel anything when he looked at the all too familiar box. He knew what was inside, and a part of him wondered if he would feel all those old feelings again or if the nothingness inside his head would withstand it. Everything seemed to be through a haze of fog that he couldn't get past; almost like he was looking at someone else's life and not his own. He flipped the lid off of the box and pulled the box onto his lap; it was heavier than he remembered. Inside it was a smaller box. He pulled the smaller box out and opened it. Inside was a shard of mirrored glass and a envelope simply labeled, "please read me." Wilson opened the envelope and read the letter inside.

_James,_

_You tried to ask for help and I didn't listen. I lied to you, get over it._

_I do need you, James. I always will. Neither of us needs to say it to make it true._

_-Greg_

Wilson looked at his reflection in the shard of mirror. He remembered that night at the bar. He could see his eyes beginning to water but he wasn't sure why. Wilson sat back and stared at the ceiling.

House had been watching Wilson from the doorway. Now he approached the bed and sat down next to Wilson. "I'm self-centered and that I wasn't there when you needed me. I'm sorry I lied to you." He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for Wilson's response.

"I was so angry, House." His voice sounded hollow, like it wasn't really him talking, but rather someone pretending to be him. He buried his face in his hands. His breath was tight in his chest. The world felt numb to him, almost like he could disappear at this very moment and everything would still remain the same. Wilson felt House wrap his arms around him and his world steadied. He felt the pain in his heart come back and the tears flowed down his cheeks.

"I'll be there this time. I promise." Wilson didn't acknowledge House's words as he continued to sob. House wasn't even sure Wilson had heard him so he continued. "I need you, Wilson." House kissed Wilson's forehead and wondered if things would ever be the same again.

FIN


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